


The Paradox of Perfection

by Sundaye



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Edgar Allen Ravens, Google; how do i write sports, M/M, Mostly Nathan being a fuck, Neil is a Raven, Raven AU, Raven Neil Josten, Raven!Neil, Riko is such shit, The Perfect Court (All For The Game), This is more exy than I've ever written before, can't wait to kill him, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundaye/pseuds/Sundaye
Summary: Nathaniel Wesninski has been his father's property since birth. Another tool in the Butcher's criminal empire, alive as long as he's useful. Or so he thought. As it turns out, Nathaniel's life belongs to someone else entirely--the Moriyama family, a group of criminals even more powerful than the Butcher's. After proving his worth to the Moriyamas through exy, Nathaniel is handed over to the Edgar Allen Ravens to train under them so he can one day contribute to the Moriyama's wealth and influence.A terrible accident forces Nathaniel to question what his survival under the Moriyamas is worth. And whether he's willing to keep paying that price.





	The Paradox of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write a Raven AU for so long, but I haven't actually gotten the time until now. I'm really excited to put this up after it's been sitting in my mind so long. 
> 
> Thanks so much for stopping in to read, and let me know what you think! (Also if there are any warnings you think I should put on this, please let me know here or on tumblr @ssundaye .)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Nathaniel became a Raven

People were funneling through the stadium like livestock trudging around in useless lines. Their voices swelled into one large, excited mass that dipped and rose through the air. Nathaniel watched them enviously, their carefree faces exposing lives so unlike his own they seemed artificial.  
  
"Son," Nathan's voice pressed down above him. He was making it sound nice. He was probably wearing that bland smile he dusted off for the public.  
  
Son. Nathaniel was never Nathan's son until they walked out their front door. Nathaniel pinched himself to stop from shuddering. There was a dark purplish scar still puckered over his ribs from the time he'd shown his discomfort at Nathan's fake affection.  
  
"Dad?" Nathaniel forced out. He was getting better at acting. He even stretched the corners of his lips up in a smile.  
  
The smell of fried food from the nearby concession stand roiled in Nathaniel's gut. He ignored it. He kept his smile still like a perfectly balanced coin on its edge.  
  
"This is Tetsuji Moriyama." A short man with dark hair slicked to the side like the severe swoop of a wing stepped up beside his father. His face was strict. Nathaniel could tell the man was in control of every muscle in his body, every small twitch and flex.  
  
"Nice to meet you. I'm Nathaniel." Nathaniel didn't offer his hand. He knew better.  
  
The other man didn't say anything to him. He looked Nathaniel up and down like he was planning to carve him into valuable parts. Nathan's hand came down on Nathaniel's shoulder in warning and Nathaniel's breathing stopped. He held so still he wondered if he could turn to stone. The moment stretched into hours, to days, to years.  
  
"So?" Nathan finally asked. Nathaniel's jaw twitched in surprise and Nathan's hand squeezed his shoulder tight. The blood drained from Nathaniel's face. He needed to get control over himself.  
  
Tetsuji's eyes stopped on Nathaniel's.  
  
"We will see," Tetsuji replied.  
  
Nathan bowed his head in understanding. An understanding Nathaniel couldn't grasp. That's how it was with Nathan's affiliates. They held their conversations on a level too high for Nathaniel grasp. Everything they said was folded into double and triple meanings. And those meanings would only fall to his reach when his father wanted to cut him apart. Nathan's craft was dissecting people painfully to the bone. Nathaniel knew that much very well.  
  
"Good. I'll let you get back to your business," Nathan said. Tetsuji didn't bat an eye at the dismissal. Nathaniel wasn't surprised. Though the man held power around himself naturally, there were a rare few people who could speak with his father as an equal.  
  
"And I to yours," Tetsuji replied. There was a weight to those words that told Nathaniel Tetsuji knew the entirety of Nathan's business.  
  
Tetsuji didn't spare Nathaniel another glance. His face was ice as he turned away. He was using a cane, Nathaniel realized. Black as his eyes, and topped with a silver handle. It hit the floor with soft clicks.  
  
Nathan's hand lifted from Nathaniel's shoulder. The skin there was moist from a nervous sweat Nathaniel hadn't realized he'd broken into. His father had noticed it. He wiped his hand off on Nathaniel's shirtsleeve in disdain.  
  
Nathaniel couldn't hold back his flinch at the contact, but managed to freeze when Nathan clicked his tongue in disapproval. It was the sound he made to remind Nathaniel this would come back to him later. Whether it was at the end of his father's knife, or under Lola's instruction. Sometimes Nathaniel dreaded Lola's lessons more than the pain. It was often her voice he heard when he dreamt. And his father's eyes he'd see. Nathaniel had the same eyes except they were hollow with fear.  
  
"Let's go," Nathan ordered. His voice slipped from its warm tone. It was a flat line that obscured his thoughts.  
  
Nathaniel hesitated a second too long and Nathan tutted again. "Let's go," Nathan repeated. Nathaniel hurried forward.  
  
It was hard for Nathaniel to follow his father against the flow of the crowd leaving the building. His slight frame was pushed around easily by people elbowing their way to the building's exits, and he had to force his entire weight against them to keep moving forward. Nathan didn't look back to see if his son was keeping up. Nathaniel saw the indolent stretch of his father's back and for the briefest second, considered letting the crowd carry him away. The thought choked itself out with fear as he thought of what would happen to him when his father caught him.  
  
They broke out of the crowd and stepped up to a roped off area blocked by guards. Nathaniel could spot the bulge in the guards' jackets that hid their guns from past experience. Nathan didn't slow as he approached. One of the guards recognized him and waved him through.  
  
Nathaniel's gut clenched as he realized his father was known here. Exy had been a refuge from his father's world and now it was all bleeding together. He hadn't had a chance all morning to appreciate Castle Evermore--where both the top-ranked NCAA Edgar Allen Ravens and the national team played. Instead, all of his focus had been on his father's movements, reactions, and his own every breath.  
  
Nathaniel's mother was smiling blandly at a few other women seated in a lounge area with a large glass wall overlooking the stadium. A rake-thin blonde woman brushed her hair behind an ear, revealing a large diamond on one finger. Another woman leaned forward and laughed like she'd practiced producing the sound hundreds of times.  
  
"Mary." Nathan beckoned his wife over with the quiet order. She stood automatically, excusing herself from the other women.  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"Take Junior. I have a meeting."

"Of course, darling. Nathaniel, honey." Mary held her hand out to him. Nathaniel took it gladly, gripping her a little too hard, maybe.

"I'll have a car pick me up later," Nathan told his wife, "You can take him home once he's finished."

Finished with what? Nathaniel wanted to ask. Possibilities twisted in his thoughts, every one of them ending in blood. He wanted to vomit.

"I'll see you at home, then," Mary said with a perfectly crafted smile. It was obedient. Pretty. She leaned up and kissed Nathan's cheek as if she were kissing the wing of a butterfly. Or a rattlesnake. Her lips barely brushed his skin.

Nathan leaned down to Nathaniel as if he were saying goodbye, but instead said, "Don't fail me, Nathaniel."

Nathan leaned back, pulled his fake smile over his face, and waved them off. Dread made Nathaniel's limbs heavy. He could barely stumble away as Mary pulled him behind her. She squeezed his hand in a request to shake it off.

"What does he want from me, Mom?" Nathaniel asked her quietly. Her lips thinned in displeasure.

"Nothing, darling," Mary lied, "Did you bring your gear with you?"

Nathaniel had forgotten. "Mac has it," Nathaniel replied. "Dad told him to bring it down to the locker room."

"Good," Nathaniel's mother said. She led them down toward the locker rooms. Mary always knew where she was. She'd been teaching him tricks so he'd never get lost, but he was still working on it. There were more guards waiting by the visitors locker rooms, but Mary pulled out a laminated pass that let them through.

"Okay, Nathaniel," Mary said in her 'listen carefully' voice, "Just go on in and get ready for practice."

"But what about dad?" Nathaniel caught himself slipping into his mother's accent and drew back from it. She didn't like when he did that. The stern look she gave him told him she noticed.

"Your father is busy. You don't need to worry about him. Just play like you always do, love." A strange tense expression wrinkled the corners of her mouth but she smoothed it over expertly. She leaned down and kissed Nathaniel's forehead. "Go on," she said.

No matter what his mother said, Nathaniel wouldn't forget his father's presence so easily. Exy was everything Nathan wasn't. It was freedom--control. The court made sense, was something that asked him to bleed for it instead of demanding.

"Nathaniel," Mary warned him. Nathaniel took in a deep breath that tripped down his throat.

If it was exy, he could outrun his father. He'd still be there, but Nathaniel would leave him stumbling after his heels. Mary smoothed Nathaniel's cowlick and gave him a tight smile.

"Go on," she repeated, "I'll be watching from the stands. Don't worry about your father. He'll meet us afterwards."

"Okay," Nathaniel replied. Knowing his mother would be watching soothed some of Nathaniel's nerves. This was a special practice. They'd be scrimmaging against Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day themselves--the prodigal sons of exy. The thought made both fear and anticipation buzz in Nathaniel's gut. He wanted to test his teeth against them. To see if they were worth their reputations--and if he was worthy of stepping onto the same court as them.  
  
Nathaniel wasn't entirely surprised that all of his team hadn't been invited to scrimmage today. Some of them were more dedicated than others, and even fewer had the natural talent that would take them beyond little leagues. Nathaniel knew he had both that talent, and dedication. When he wasn't attending public events with his father, or taking lessons with Lola, Nathaniel had his racquet in hand to perfect his skills. He would run his feet raw going through footwork drills in their well-fenced-in yard until the mosquitoes bit constellations onto his legs.

Nathaniel greeted the other kids in the locker room with a quick wave of his hand. He spotted Mac, lurking in a corner with his phone flipped open and a stupid grin on his face. Nathaniel rolled his eyes. He tugged his bag from Mac's arm, earning only a quick glance to confirm it was Nathaniel taking the gear.

Nathaniel always changed out in the bathroom stalls. His teammates didn't know who Nathaniel's father was so they weren't afraid of making fun of him for it--saying he had a mutant tail, or a third nipple--but Nathaniel knew better than to react to their ridicule. After a trial of dedicated indifference, the other kids left him be. Nathaniel pulled his gear over the scars on his chest quickly and stepped back out to the benches.

Everyone else was seated on the benches already, talking excitedly about playing against Riko and Kevin. Nathaniel ignored them as he tied a bandana around his head to keep his hair from falling into his face. He inspected the netting of his exy racquet for weak points, tugging the strings like his coach had taught him.  
  
Shadows suffocated the room, and threatened to suffocate Nathaniel, too. The walls, lockers, benches--even the floor were all painted black. It was like being thrown into a well with the top sealed off. Conversations around Nathaniel slowly died down as it affected the other players. He realized this was the first play of the game. Intimidate the other team before they could even step on the court.  
  
A man with a clipboard came into the locker room just as silence started gnawing at the edges of dying conversations. His face was impassive as he looked over the young players seated in front of him.  
  
"Welcome." There was nothing welcoming in either the man's tone, or facial expression. "You have all been brought here today because of the potential you've displayed while playing exy. You will have the great honor today of scrimmaging with the Edgar Allen Junior Ravens. Assistant Hano," the man gestured to another equally stoic man poised by the locker room doors, "will lead you through warm-ups, then prepare you for the match. We trust that you will all represent yourselves and your teams respectfully today."  
  
The nameless man stepped aside so Assistant Hano could take his place. Nathaniel could feel the other players already losing their enthusiasm for the day's game. This serious atmosphere was not something they'd expected when they'd been invited to play an informal game of exy. Nathaniel could only feel his anticipation grow. He'd be on the court again soon. He'd play against Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day. A thrill went through his heart and made it shudder. Not even his father's presence somewhere in the same stadium, threatening Nathaniel's sanctuary, could ruin this.  
  
Assistant Hano handed out bright red pinnies to pull over their gear. It would help distinguish them as a team, however makeshift. The material was smooth and light, and wouldn't hinder their movements as they played. Nathaniel pulled his over his head quickly, eager to get out on the court. Once everyone else had done the same, Assistant Hano led them out of the locker room.  
  
Nathaniel felt like he'd stepped outside of the real world and into an alternate dimension. He could smell the wood of the floor, the tang of sweat from players warming up, the remnants of fried food from the concession stands. It was a shock to his system, and it left him shaking. Nathaniel had played on professional exy courts before, but none as remarkable as this.  
  
Assistant Hano put a hand out to stop them from moving further and pulled his clipboard up to his chest. He surveyed them like insects he was about to crush beneath his shoe. People were combing through the stands, cleaning up trash from the previous match. A row of men in suits sat still as candlesticks near the court floor.  
  
On the court itself, Nathaniel saw them. They moved like their namesake, flying from one end of the court to the other in drills so smooth it looked like an elaborate dance. Exy balls thudded rhythmically as the Junior Ravens manipulated them, never missing a beat. If this was the minor team, Nathaniel couldn't imagine what practice looked like at college-level.  
  
"Please separate yourselves into offensive and defensive positions. I'll have the two goalies over here," Assistant Hano instructed them, gesturing to indicate where he expected them.  
  
Nathaniel shuffled over to join the other defensive players, checking out who he'd be playing with. Backliners where usually larger, used to using their bulk to block hits and players better. Nathaniel was on the smaller side, but what he lacked in mass, he made up for in speed. He could match any offensive player step-for-step so they couldn't slip past him. Still, standing amongst the larger players made Nathaniel feel strangely inadequate. He clapped his exy stick against one hand heavily to shake his anxiety.  
  
Assistant Hano had players pair up to stretch out, then started them on drills. The Junior Ravens shifted their own warm-ups to half of the court to make room for them. In comparison to their perfect synchrony, the mixed team that had been assembled to challenge the Junior Ravens looked like clumsy children.  
  
Raven drills were more intense than the ones Nathaniel did on his own little league team. They demanded more precision and force than most of the players could manage, and it showed. They all had been worked into a decent sweat by the time Assistant Hano called for them to stop. Nathaniel evened his breathing out expertly, proud he wasn't bent over clutching his knees like some of the others. Across the court, the Junior Ravens finished their own drills without so much as a drop of sweat on any of them.  
  
"The rules of the scrimmage will be the same as those you're used to in little leagues," Assistant Hano told them, "You will be separated into a starting lineup and backup based on your performances just now. If your name is called, please head to your positions on the Away side of the court."  
  
Nathaniel wasn't surprised when his name was called. He jogged over to far-court, and stood in ready position, his racquet held loosely in both hands. Across the court, he could see the opposing backliner do the same. In front of them, Riko Moriyama took his place on the half-court line. Nathaniel's heart thudded heavily in his chest at the sight of him. From where he stood, it looked like Riko's posture was lazy. Like he didn't think this scrimmage would pose a challenge to him at all.  
  
Nathaniel gripped his racquet harder. He was going to change Riko's mind.  
  
One of the refs stepped up with each of the two teams' starting dealers so they could toss for first serve. After catching the coin and slapping it down on the back of his hand, the ref raised an arm up to signal the Ravens would start.  
  
Both dealers jogged back to their sides of the court. Nathaniel tensed up, shifting to the balls of his feet and crouching just enough to give himself a head start when the buzzer rang. It came, a sharp sound, and the ball was launched into play.

It all happened immediately, like time had sped forward without Nathaniel. The Junior Ravens passed the ball between each other swiftly, barely looking to see if their teammates were there to receive the pass. The seamless passing resulted in near-teleportation of the ball up-court. Riko was in front of Nathaniel and pivoting past him before Nathaniel could even think to defend. Only his reflexes and speed allowed Nathaniel to move just in time to put himself between Riko and the goal.  
  
Riko didn't even glance at him. His racquet swung and the net was empty in the second it took Nathaniel to try and knock it down. Kevin was already there to take the pass and shooting at the goal. The plexiglass wall behind Nathaniel lit up red, and a buzzer sounded to let them know he'd scored. Nathaniel glanced up at the clock where it had frozen. Only five seconds had passed.

The court was silent. The Ravens didn't rejoice in the point won, and Nathaniel's team was too dumbfounded to say anything. Barely any of them had even moved from starting position. Nathaniel looked back at Riko, who was already jogging back to half-court.  
  
This was beyond anything Nathaniel had faced on the court before. The Ravens were so far above his skill level, he might as well have just picked his racquet up for the first time this afternoon. The realization made Nathaniel shiver with excitement. He'd probably never have another opportunity to play someone this good again.  
  
The ref signaled resume play, and it was almost exactly the same result. This time, though, Nathaniel's teammates seemed to have woken up and attempted to push back. Their dealer almost actually intercepted the ball until Kevin came up and checked him hard to the ground. Nathaniel winced in sympathy as the dealer struggled to his feet.  
  
It continued brutally until half-time. Nathaniel's team had finally started to put up a less-than-pathetic fight, but they were already so winded it sounded like they'd been running uphill for hours. Nathaniel had been pulled from the court for the last few minutes of the first half. He'd taken the opportunity to better observe the Ravens play from his seat on the bench while he caught his breath. It gave him a chance to pick apart their playing style for weaknesses.

The Junior Ravens relied on passing the ball quickly enough that it barely touched their nets before it was moving again. This gave Nathaniel's team almost no time for checking, and less time to tell where the ball would be next. On the court, Nathaniel hadn't realized he needed to stop trying to play for the ball, and start anticipating the players instead.

He was lucky he'd had ten years of practice reading body language.  
  
When the break ended, Nathaniel was ready to start breaking down the Raven's offense. He'd start with Riko, who was still standing like this was nothing more than a stroll around the court. Neil's backup was sent in first, so Nathaniel had to wait for his chance to put his plans into action. His heels bounced off the floor impatiently.  
  
The plexiglass doors to the court closed behind the players. The buzzer rang. The court was a flurry of motion before the sound even ended.  
  
Nathaniel's team was letting their frustration get the better of them. They'd yet to score a single point to the Ravens' 9, and were restless to change that. The number of fouls called doubled during the second half, and even a few yellow cards were thrown down. Nathaniel wasn't against fouling if it advanced the game, but this was just sloppy playing. His hands clenched the fabric of his shorts anxiously as he waited to be put back in.  
  
Nathaniel got his chance when his backup was checked hard into the wall and went down like a sack of rocks. She struggled to pull herself up along the plexiglass and took three steps forward before stumbling to her knees again. She put a hand up to signal she was too injured to play.  
  
Nathaniel was on his feet before their temporary coach gave word to head back to court. He grabbed his racquet from the bench and spun it in his hand readily. Nathaniel clapped the other backliner on the shoulder in sympathy as she limped off the court, but he couldn't hide his excitement at replacing her.  
  
"They're vicious," she warned him. Nathaniel already knew as much. Was counting on it.  
  
Play resumed as soon as Nathaniel was in position. The atmosphere inside the plexiglass was even tenser than Nathaniel had seen from the bench. Violence simmered under every step, every swing, and exhalation. This was what Nathaniel lived for. More than survival, than making it another day in his father's house. The court was everything he ever wanted.  
  
Nathaniel finally let the Ravens know it.  
  
Riko had been taken off court with Kevin, but his replacement was barely any easier to defend against. That difference was enough for Nathaniel to put his speed to use and check them just before they could catch a pass their dealer sent up to them. He threw his shoulder into it so the player went down, the ball rebounding off the court floor and straight into Nathaniel's own net.  
  
None of Nathaniel's teammates were ready for him to actually intercept the ball. Even the Ravens were caught slightly off-guard, although they recovered quicker. Nathaniel managed to side-step the Raven that tried to take the ball off of him, but his pass didn't land as the striker he'd launched it towards wasn't prepared to receive it. He let out a breath of frustration.  
  
The next time Nathaniel got his hands on the ball, he shouted a warning to his teammates and the pass connected. Offense ran with it, taking a hurried shot on goal that was easily knocked aside. Nathaniel wiped the sweat from his forehead and wondered how anyone so incompetent had made it here.

The game continued in much the same way. The Ravens were starting to get used to Nathaniel's playing style--quick bursts of tricky footwork followed by a pass--and were now avoiding sending the ball to his side of the court. It meant he had to run harder to get into the action, and he was wearing himself out. He told himself he didn't care as the ref called another penalty on one of Nathaniel's teammates. He'd run himself down to the bone if it meant setting up at least one goal against the Ravens.  
  
The tide shifted against Nathaniel when Riko returned to the court. He was fresh from a break, and looked like he could play another whole game against Nathaniel's team. Nathaniel, on the other hand, was barely staying upright. His legs shook from exertion, and his arms were sore from the Ravens' merciless stick checks. He pushed through the exhaustion. The aches. All he could focus on was Riko in front of him, and the goal lines painted on the far wall.  
  
Riko finally made eye contact with Nathaniel, and Nathaniel felt his second (or third) wind hit. Riko gave Nathaniel a considering once-over, that made adrenaline spike sharply in Nathaniel's chest. He was ready to show the first son of exy just what he was made of.  
  
Sneakers squeaked as Nathaniel's team's dealer served. A moment of wrestling for possession resulted in favor of the Ravens, which didn't entirely surprise Nathaniel. The strikers on his team were too run down, although they still fought to play hard.  
  
Riko was in a class of his own, even compared to his teammates. When he took the ball to Nathaniel’s side of the court, he brought a pressure with him that made everyone else backpedal. Nathaniel clenched his teeth and stood his ground. He’d had time to watch Riko play from the bench. He could stop him here. 

Nathaniel braced himself as the Raven came at him, helmet down like a charging bull. He waited for the right moment—then lunged forward, taking advantage of the second Riko’s balance shifted between steps to check him into the wall.

The impact Nathaniel was expecting didn’t come. Riko executed a complex series of footwork Nathaniel had never seen before and dodged, before Nathaniel could correct his momentum. He crashed shoulder-first into the plexiglass. A groan of sympathy rose from his teammates.

There was an ominous throb of pain in Nathaniel's shoulder as he picked himself off the wall, but he chose to ignore it. It wasn't dislocated, and he could still swing his arm, so it wasn't a problem he needed to deal with now. He watched Riko's back as he jogged back to half-court. This would be harder than he'd thought.

It took almost the entire last quarter of the match for Nathaniel to start keeping up with Riko's tricky footwork. Even then, he was always just a breath behind. Sweat itched as it dripped down his temples. It felt like his chest was full of wet cotton, and his limbs were soaked in concrete.

It was just after Nathaniel bore the brunt of one of Riko's shoulders in a mistimed check that he finally noticed it. A tell. A twist of Riko's wrist that gave away when he was feinting a shot on goal. It was so slight a motion, that nobody else could have seen it except Nathaniel. He was used to watching his father's hands when he was about to lash out that his eyes were drawn naturally to others' as well.

When Riko and Nathaniel clashed again, Nathaniel was ready. Nathaniel crowded in on Riko, trying to force him to the outer edge of the court. He knew Riko would slip out of it, but it gave Nathaniel a chance to manipulate Riko's next move. As Riko side-stepped him, Nathaniel didn't bother looking at Riko's face, or the movement of his arms. Instead, he glanced down at Riko's right wrist. There. A slight twist. Riko feinted on goal. Nathaniel followed like he'd fallen for it, then whipped his racquet up just in time as Riko swiveled to pass to Kevin.

The ball hit the back of Nathaniel's net and he was already cradling his stick back and forth to keep the ball in place. He took advantage of Riko's surprise to bolt around him, shouting for his teammates to follow him down-court. By some miracle, they were ready for him.

The Raven backliners hadn't seen much action during the rest of the game, and they weren't prepared for Nathaniel and his striker to charge them. Nathaniel called a play he knew every striker should know, and aimed the ball off the far wall of the court. It rebounded just as Nathaniel intended it to. The striker snatched it out of the air and took a rapid shot on goal.  
  
Everyone on the court stared disbelievingly as the wall behind the Raven goalie flared red. The buzzer sounding for the point broke their silence, and Nathaniel's teammates let out a cheer. Some of them swamped the striker who'd managed the point, while a few thumped Nathaniel heartily on the back for the assist. It was times like these Nathaniel's face broke into the only genuine smiles he had. They only had a few seconds to celebrate the single point they'd won before the warning buzzer interrupted them, but it was enough to lighten the air inside the court.  
  
Nathaniel heard footsteps come up behind him.  
  
"What's your name?" Riko spoke for the first time within Nathaniel's earshot.  
  
Nathaniel turned, meeting Riko's eyes. He was still breathing heavily, and it made his response ragged. "Nathaniel."  
  
Nathaniel thought there might be some sort of recognition on Riko's face, but it was too absurd a thought to entertain.  
  
"That was a nice trick, although you won't pull it off a second time," Riko warned him.  
  
Nathaniel glanced at the clock. Considering the time they had left in the match, Riko wasn't wrong. When he looked back down to let Riko know his team would score again anyway, Riko had already walked away. Apparently, that was all Nathaniel would get from him.  
  
Nathaniel's team didn't score again. They were too worn out to do much more than hold their racquets in front of them and stumble after the ball. Nathaniel's own limits were rearing their ugly head at this point, and he could no longer ignore them. He'd be feeling this scrimmage for the rest of the week, if not the year.  
  
The buzzer signalling the end of the game was a blessed sound. Nathaniel wanted to be frustrated at being used to wipe the court floor so thoroughly by the Junior Ravens, but he was too tired. He pulled his helmet off as soon as he could, and sank to his knees, tipping his chin up as if he were drowning, and just barely keeping his head above the water. The pressure on his chest certainly made it feel that way. Plenty of others had simply collapsed on the court. It took several minutes before any of them made moves to struggle to their feet.  
  
The air was cool on Nathaniel's sweat-soaked skin by the time he stood unsteadily. Before he could take a single step towards the plexiglass walls of the court, Riko approached him. He had his gloves tucked casually under an arm and his racquet slung over his shoulder. Kevin trailed a step behind, his eyes set so straight ahead of him they seemed to look through Nathaniel and the stadium walls. Nathaniel tried not to fidget as Riko stopped in front of him. They were almost the exact same height so their eyes were level as Riko stared him down.

The hair at the nape of Nathaniel's neck prickled and he resisted glancing down at Riko's hands. For a brief moment, Nathaniel thought Riko might punch him, but then Riko gave him a warm smile that thawed his entire face disconcertingly. He pressed a thumb to Nathaniel's left cheek, right at the corner of his eye and lowered his eyelids thoughtfully. Nathaniel forced himself not to flinch away, his own eyes falling to Riko's left cheek, where a number 1 was etched onto his skin in permanent marker. Riko dropped his thumb. His expression shifted into something that promised conspiracy.

"Nice to meet you, Nathaniel," Riko said.  
  
"You too," Nathaniel replied warily. Riko's smile slanted to one side smugly.  
  
"See you soon," Riko claimed. He cocked a hand at Kevin and stalked off.  
  
Kevin met Nathaniel's eyes briefly as he passed him, but he didn't offer his own greeting. There was something in the intensity of his eyes that made Nathaniel feel like he was trying to convey a message. Nathaniel didn't receive it properly and his eyes followed Kevin as he disappeared through the Home locker room doors.  
  
Nathaniel's line of sight shifted to the men in suits still observing the players on the court from the stands. As far as Nathaniel could tell, they hadn't moved a muscle since they'd sat down. Nathaniel was afraid of what would happen if they did. Like waiting for a porcelain doll to blink. He looked away.  
  
Mac was waiting for Nathaniel with empty hands when he finished changing out. He had hooded eyes that looked down on the tired players shuffling out of the locker room with disinterest. Nathaniel had no doubt he'd be more interested if they were a few feet taller and had their fists up. Mac was a guy who liked a good punch to the face, or at least Nathaniel could assume as much considering how often Mac had broken his nose.  
  
"Give me your shit, kid," Mac said, "Just got word from above. Change of plans: Mr. Wesninski wants to see you once you're done cleaning yourself up."  
  
Nathaniel hardly heard worse words than, "Mr. Wesninski wants to see you." He handed his gear over with shaking hands, trying not to hyperventilate in front of all these other kids. He must have done something to anger his dad--maybe he hadn't played well enough. Maybe his father was mad that he'd lost.  
  
Nathaniel took his time showering, angling his body so nobody could easily see his scars. He knew the longer he took, the angrier his would get, but the high of playing exy still lingered. He was reluctant to let it go.  
  
When he'd finally cleaned up and changed out, Mac was back on his phone. He looked up when Nathaniel approached and snapped his phone shut with a clack.

"'Bout time. Thought you'd drowned in there or something," Mac said.  
  
Nathaniel didn't respond. He was conserving his energy for his father.  
  
"Let's go, then. Don't want to keep him waiting," Mac told him. Even if Nathaniel wanted to, he knew he couldn't. He followed Mac out, nausea growing as they passed through the back halls of the stadium.  
  
Mac led Nathaniel to an expensive-looking door in a nearly-vacant hallway. The door was thick, and Nathaniel could tell it had been sound-proofed so no noise could slip out. That wasn't a good sign.  
  
"They're expecting him," Mac told the guard at the door. The guard scrutinized Nathaniel with a hard gaze, then nodded, pulling the door open.  
  
Mac gave Nathaniel a cheeky wave and a, "Later, kid," as Nathaniel entered the dark room. Definitely a man who liked being punched in the face.  
  
Nathan and a group of strangers sat in expensive leather chairs like they'd just been having a casual discussion about business. Maybe they had, considering Nathan's line of work. The only other person Nathaniel recognized in the group was his father's personal bodyguard, Patrick Dimaccio, who gave Nathaniel a quick once-over out of habit.  
  
"Junior, glad you could make it," Nathan greeted his son. Nathaniel dropped his eyes to the floor and said nothing. There was an energy to Nathan's voice that only came out when he was about to make someone bleed.  
  
"Go stand with your friends over there," Nathan ordered him dismissively. Nathaniel glanced over to where two boys his age stood. He was shocked to see they were Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day.  
  
Nathaniel walked over cautiously, unsure of what was about to happen. Riko's expression was bored, while Kevin's was shuttered. They made no move to acknowledge Nathaniel, or the match they'd just played against each other, so he stood next to them silently.  
  
There was no way Nathan was going to punish Nathaniel in front of all these people. Relief released some of the tension in Nathaniel's body, but his ignorance over what he was doing here didn't let him relax completely. He had no idea what would require his presence among this audience. Nathaniel risked another look at Riko and Kevin, who revealed no answers.  
  
Minutes passed slowly, and Nathaniel grew more and more restless. He knew how to stand still for hours, was used to it during his father's business calls at home, but it didn't make this wait any easier.  
  
Nathaniel didn't know how long they'd been standing there when the door finally opened to reveal the reason they'd been gathered in this room. An older man with an entourage of guards stepped forward to join them. His face looked like a ceramic mask of indifference, so perfectly schooled it was unnatural. That lack of humanity made Nathaniel's blood run cold. Goosebumps prickled along his arms, unbidden.  
  
Nathan and the people he'd been speaking with stood and bowed deeply in respect, and everyone else in the room followed suit. Nathaniel rushed to do the same, although he had no idea who he was bowing to. He knew better than to risk anything that could be seen as insolence.  
  
The man said something in Japanese and everyone straightened up.  
  
"Butcher," the man addressed Nathaniel's father in barely accented English.  
  
"Lord Moriyama," Nathan replied.  
  
The rest of the conversation followed in Japanese. From the tone of their voices, it sounded like pleasantries were being exchanged. Nathaniel wondered if the entire purpose of Nathan's coming to Castle Evermore today had been to meet with this man, and if so, why Nathaniel had suddenly been called to join.  
  
Nathan broke Nathaniel's reverie by calling out a sharp order. Two of the Butcher's men entered the room through a door on the other side of the room. They dragged a man in behind them. He was naked except for a pair of soiled briefs, and bound tightly. Nathaniel could see from the chafed skin along the ropes that he'd been tied up for a while.  
  
It was a sight Nathaniel had seen before, and he knew what was coming next.

  
The man was brought forward onto a tarp that had been lain out during his entrance. Nathaniel now knew why this room had been so heavily sound-proofed. The man who was about to die sobbed noisily as he was pushed roughly to his knees.  
  
Nathaniel didn't look too closely at his face. He separated the part of himself that might feel pity for this man, and stamped it out. People knew better than to cross the Butcher. He was a force of nature. If he set you in his sights, he would find you, and you would find yourself on the other end of his knives. This man should have known better than to catch Nathan Wesninski's eye.

Someone brought a black case to Nathan and popped the clasps. Inside was the reason for the Butcher’s namesake—a heavy meat cleaver with a thick handle and a weighted blade. When Nathan had first started taking people apart, he’d used only this cleaver. Back then, he’d kept the blade so sharp it could chop through bone in a single swing. It had been used so many times by now that the edge was dull, but that only made it that much more painful when Nathan put it to use. These days, he tended to use an ax that he kept sharp for quick work. The cleaver meant this would not be quick. Nathan took it into his hand like an old friend.  
  
It began.

Nathaniel knew he couldn't close his eyes, or he'd be punished later. He watched every second as his father cut into the man with the dulled blade of his cleaver. He heard the screaming, the begging, and eventually just the wet thudding of the cleaver breaking flesh on the corpse. He understood why men called his father the Butcher. He made a craft of turning people into cuts of meat.  
  
When it was over, the entire tarp was soaked in blood. There was enough of it splattered down Nathan's front to make it look like he'd slit his own throat, although none of it was his. There was a garish grin split across his face that he only got when someone was bleeding out in front of him. He sat back on his heels and inspected the mess in front of him like he was divining more from it than he'd gotten from its owner. Then, he stood. Wiped the blade of his cleaver. And stepped away.  
  
Nathan asked Lord Moriyama something in Japanese. Lord Moriyama nodded in answer, his fingers steepled thoughtfully in his lap. His eyes shifted over to Nathaniel, and he added something else in Japanese. It was Nathan's turn to nod.  
  
"Nathaniel," Nathan said. Nathaniel jumped at being suddenly addressed.

"You're dismissed. Romero will see you to the car while I finish my business," Nathan ordered.

"Yes, sir," Nathaniel responded obediently.  
  
Romero stepped forward and gestured disinterestedly for Nathaniel to follow him. As he turned to leave, Nathaniel caught sight of Riko and Kevin, who'd stood next to him through the entire spectacle. Riko's face remained as impassive as it had been before, while Kevin's had paled to a sickly hue. He was shaking. Nathaniel envied that. Maybe this was the first time Kevin had ever seen someone killed.  
  
Riko noticed Nathaniel looking and met his eyes. His lips cut into a quick smile.  
  
_See you_ , Riko mouthed at him.  
  
Nathaniel didn't know what to make of it as he left. Would he be seeing Riko again on the court? Or in another room where his father put his title to use?  
  
He didn't really want to know the answer.  
  
Nathaniel barely saw Castle Evermore as he passed through it again. It was now empty of spectators and that emptiness gave the air a hanging sense of dread. The kind of foreboding that made animals go to ground in the wild. Like something awful was about to stalk through the halls. Thinking of his father, Nathaniel supposed that was true. 

Nathaniel was glad to be out in the open air again as they stepped outside, although it was short-lived. The car was already waiting for him and Romero by the entrance, and Nathaniel knew Romero's sister, Lola, was waiting with it behind its tinted windows. The two rarely ever traveled without the other. It would be a long ride home.

Mary was busy when Nathaniel got home, and he couldn't find her to tell her how the scrimmage had gone. Lola had been called back to the stadium so she could make herself useful doing what she did best--making bodies disappear--and Romero had thankfully gone with her. It left Nathaniel alone, a rare occasion, and he took the chance to pull out the notebook he'd been using to record exy plays he'd learned in little leagues.  He replayed the match in his mind, analyzing moments where he could have done better, and tapping the eraser of his pencil on the paper as he thought.  He put the image of the dying man somewhere it couldn't surface easily.

The sun had started to set by the time Nathaniel was finished. His shoulder was aching in a way that told Nathaniel he'd need to ice it if he could, and his fingers were cramping from both the scrimmage and writing so much. He flexed them and cracked his knuckles. A door slamming downstairs warned Nathaniel that his father had returned home, and he stowed the notebook back under some schoolwork in his desk.

Dinner that evening was a familiar procedure. Nathaniel didn't say a word unless he was spoken to, and Mary stepped carefully around conversation like she might trip Nathan's anger at any moment. The man himself was in a good mood from earlier, which made Nathaniel relax fractionally as he forced food into his mouth. They were almost finished eating when his mom finally addressed Nathaniel.

"I didn't get a chance to ask, Nathaniel. How was your match today?" Mary asked. She smoothed her fingers over the tablecloth subconsciously.

 Nathaniel shrugged, setting his fork down so it didn't clatter on his plate. "We lost. The Ravens are really good."

Nathan set his own cutlery down, resting his wrists on the table. "You lost?"

Nathaniel swallowed. Nodded.

"What was the score?"

"Fifteen-One," Nathaniel mumbled.

"Speak up, Nathaniel," Nathan snapped. Nathaniel cleared his throat.

"Fifteen-One," he repeated.

Nathan's jaw worked tensely. He wiped his mouth with the napkin in his lap, then slammed it down on the table suddenly. Both Mary and Nathaniel jumped.

"That's real fuckin' good, Junior. What did you do out there? Squat and take a shit while those kids scored on you?" Nathan questioned furiously.

"I-I made an assist--" Nathaniel stuttered out.

"Fifteen-fucking-one, Junior," Nathan cut in.

"It was just a scrimmage, Nathan," Mary said quietly, trying to defuse his rage.

"I'm just saying, dear." Nathan's voice was anything but endearing. "We pay so much for that damn league. Maybe it isn't worth it if he's getting his ass kicked out there."

"The Junior Ravens are the best team in the country. I'm sure Nathaniel did his best against them," Mary argued.

"Doing his best isn't good enough," Nathan said through his teeth.

There was a moment where the two of them stared intently at the other, communicating on some wavelength Nathaniel couldn't access. He shrank in his seat, wondering if they'd forgotten he was there.

Finally, Nathan unclenched the fists he'd pressed to the table and let a long breath out through his nostrils.

"Enough. We can discuss this more later. They invited him back tomorrow, anyway. It's an honor." Nathan gave Nathaniel a cold smile. "We'll see if it's really worth it when he plays then."

Mary looked down at her clean plate, something dangerous simmering under the surface of her expression. "How wonderful," she forced out.

Nathan stood, and Nathaniel jumped to his feet out of habit. "Don't forget who's paying for all those damn practices, Junior. And don't disappoint me again."

Mary came around the table and put a consoling hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. There was a tension in her body that made Nathaniel nervous.

“I’m so proud of you, love.” Mary leaned down and pressed her lips to Nathaniel’s hair. 

”We’re leaving tonight,” his mom whispered urgently in his ear, “Don’t bring anything with you.”

Nathaniel’s mouth went dry. He was too shocked for the panic her words incited to hit him fully. Mary sensed it coming and squeezed his shoulder to keep him from speaking.

”No questions now. Just be ready. I’ll come get you. To bed then, darling.” The last part she said louder, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She turned him around, covering his dazed expression, and patted him lightly on the back. “Go on.”

Nathaniel staggered to his room, closing the door so he’d hear his mother coming in. He couldn’t believe what she’d said—it felt like a sick dream his mind had invented in wake of the horrific torture he’d witnessed earlier. There was no way Mary would risk their lives to flee from the Butcher. It was suicide. Nathaniel wanted it so badly it made his chest hurt.

He didn’t understand why she would decide to leave now, after ten years of living with Nathan’s knife pressed to their throats. No matter how he tried to figure it out, he felt he was missing something crucial, and no answer came to him.

Nathaniel’s nerves kept him up for hours, but his exhaustion from the day eventually won out and dragged him under. He was asleep before he realized it. His body was lead after running it down against the Ravens, his mind wrung out.

The sound of his doorknob turning sometime later shot Nathaniel through with instant awareness. His eyes cracked open, but instinct prevented him from moving to look towards the door. It was still dark out.

”Mum?” Nathaniel whispered after a long moment of silence.

There was a heavy thud of a footstep that squelched wetly on the carpet. Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat.

”Hey there, Junior,” Nathan said in a low, mocking voice, “Sorry to wake you.”

Nathaniel’s bed sank as his father sat down with him. He smelled blood. 

“Came to check in on you—make sure you were still in bed.” Nathan put a hot hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder and turned him over so he could look him in the eye.

Nathaniel could barely make his father out in the moonlight that managed to slip through the blinds of his bedroom window. There was a dark stain covering the front of Nathan's shirt. His father had been to work again tonight. He hadn't even washed his hands. Nathaniel felt blood from the Butcher's thumb smear over his cheek as Nathan gripped his face.

"Did you know your mother was trying to leave tonight?" Nathan asked calmly.

Nathaniel's eyes widening was all the answer Nathan needed. His hand clenched so hard tears welled up in Nathaniel's eyes.

"Did she say she was going to take you with her? Take you away from me?" 

Nathaniel whimpered, unable to open his mouth. Nathan shook him, hard.

"Why didn't you tell me, Junior? Were you going to leave with her?" 

The shaking didn't stop, Nathaniel's hands went up to catch Nathan's before he could stop himself. He froze when he realized his mistake, too late. Nathan brought his other hand up like the crack of a whip and backhanded Nathaniel so hard he tasted blood.

"You're mine, Junior. Both of you. And you're not going anywhere," Nathan growled. He finally released Nathaniel, who fought to keep himself upright. 

Nathaniel felt something fall into his lap. He didn't dare to look down at it.

"Your mother did something stupid, son." Nathan reached out to brush Nathaniel's face lightly with the backs of his knuckles. Nathaniel shuddered.

"Don't ever. Think you can run away from me. If you take what's mine, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you." Nathan put his palm to Nathaniel's cheek and gave him a long look.

"Got it, Junior?" Nathan asked. Nathaniel nodded slowly, his face numb. 

"Good boy. Back to sleep, now. Tomorrow is going to be a long day," Nathan told him. He patted Nathaniel's swollen cheek one more time, then stood. He was a shadow that stretched over Nathaniel like it would smother him.

Nathaniel watched his father turn and leave, holding his breath. He counted a full minute after the door closed before he let himself move again. He looked down in his lap. Whatever his father had left him lay there in a congealing pool of blood. Something caught the moonlight and glistened, and Nathaniel leaned in closer, dread making his throat clench tight.

It was a hand, the skin peeled off like a glove on every finger except one. There was a wedding band stuck to that single bloated finger.

Bile rose quickly in Nathaniel's throat as he realized whose hand this was. He lurched over the side of his bed and vomited violently. His whole body contracted, and a sour smell rose from the spatter on his carpet. The vomiting didn't stop until there was nothing left to throw up--and even then, dry heaves wracked Nathaniel's body ruthlessly.

When his body couldn't do anything anymore except shiver, sobs finally shook themselves loose from Nathaniel's chest. There was nothing left in him except fear and grief. It was a pain that Nathaniel had never let himself feel before, something beyond Lola's lessons, and the Butcher's punishments. It made him want to close his eyes and hear his mother's voice. It made him want to break down into senseless atoms and become nothing at all.

Morning came without Nathaniel realizing. His mother's hand was heavy in his lap, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. To even look at it. 

"Time to get up, Junior," someone said to Nathaniel from the haze that surrounded him. "Lord, it stinks. Did something die in here?" Lola let out a shrill laugh that felt like a knife to Nathaniel's eardrums.

"Boss wants you ready to go in fifteen," Lola's voice went flat as she realized Nathaniel wasn't going to respond to her. He couldn't bring himself to move.

"Fifteen, Junior. Don't make me repeat myself." She waited. When he still didn't move, she let out a growl of frustration.

Nathaniel felt Lola's nails dig into the skin of his arm as she yanked him up from the bed. The amputated hand thumped as it fell onto the mattress, and Nathaniel swayed weakly in Lola's hold. A knife appeared in her fingers. She traced it lightly along the puffy cheek of his bruised face.

"Awe, does Junior already miss his mommy? She had it coming, you know. Nobody tries to steal from the Butcher. You know that. She did, too. Maybe she wanted to die," Lola's voice dripped into Nathaniel's ear. He felt something like anger squeeze in his chest. Lola saw it in his face and laughed, releasing him.

"Get ready, Junior. Big day today."

Nathaniel would have felt like roadkill if he didn't feel so numb instead. He knew his face was a mess, and the muscles he'd abused yesterday were protesting stiffly today. When he saw Castle Evermore break across the horizon this time, he couldn't bring himself to feel the same anticipation he had yesterday. All he could think about was his mother's voice whispering, "I'll come get you," and a hand skinned raw on his sheets.

Mac was back with Nathaniel's gear stuffed in a duffel on one shoulder, although his flip phone had been tucked away. He led Nathaniel through the stadium in lieu of Nathaniel's father, chewing a piece of gum noisily. He must have sensed Nathaniel wasn't in the mood for talking, because he didn't say a single word to him the entire time.

There hadn't been a game that day, so Evermore was still and clean, like it had just been built. The sterile solitude of the stadium today compared to the bustle Nathaniel had witnessed the day before was suffocating and surreal. It didn't help that when Mac pushed the locker room door open to let Nathaniel through, nobody else was there to join him.

He spared Mac a confused look, but only got a shrug in return. Mac tossed the bag to Nathaniel and popped the gum he'd been chewing. "Meet you afterwards, kid," he said.

Nathaniel changed out with clumsy fingers, not bothering to hide in a bathroom stall. No one else was there to discover Nathan's handiwork on his son's skin. He'd just finished pushing his bangs back with a bandanna when the locker room door opened again. 

It was the man his father had introduced Nathaniel to yesterday before his scrimmage with the Ravens. Tetsuji Moriyama. He stared down his nose disdainfully at Nathaniel. 

"Nathaniel Wesninski." Tetsuji held Nathaniel's name in his mouth like it was a discarded tissue.

Nathaniel remembered the people bowing to Lord Moriyama  yesterday and felt compelled to do the same. Tetsuji gave him an approving nod when he straightened up.

"You're here because you passed yesterday's tryouts," Tetsuji informed him.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed in confusion. He hadn't heard anything about tryouts. Tetsuji snapped the end of his cane against the floor with a loud rap and Nathaniel jumped.

"Your performance was mediocre, but we sensed potential to improve. As you can see, no one else displayed such potential." 

Nathaniel resisted the urge to glance around the empty locker room.

"Today, you will prove if what we saw yesterday merits our attention, or not. If you manage to impress me, you will join the Ravens, and have a chance to play exy with the best. It will be your life." 

Nathaniel inhaled sharply. 

"It will be your life," Tetsuji emphasized, "if you fail."

Tetsuji approached Nathaniel, his cane clicking across the ground. He brought the cold head of it to the underside of Nathaniel's chin.

"Your father traded your life to us, which means we decide whether it's worth keeping." Tetsuji tilted Nathaniel's head back painfully. Nathaniel was starting to understand.

"Nathaniel Wesninski, are you prepared to become an Edgar Allen Raven?" Tetsuji asked him.  
  
Mary's voice whispered again in his mind.  _Go on,_ she told him. She hadn't meant here. There was nowhere else left. Nathaniel met Tetsuji's eyes defiantly.

The Butcher might always have his cleaver hanging ready over Nathaniel's head, but it wouldn't take exy from him. Not yet. The court was his, and he would fight for it. Mary had tried to save Nathaniel from his father, but he knew now there was no escape from the Butcher. If he wanted to survive, he would stay. It he wanted to live, he would become a Raven.  
  
"I'm ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be shorter than my other works, but updating might be a little sporadic as I try to keep up with the other WIPs I've got right now. 
> 
> Andrew hasn't made an appearance just yet, but don't worry! He will show up soon.
> 
> Again, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think of this fic so far!


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